


October 2020 OtaYuri prompt challenge

by Apenootje



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Freeform, Gods and Goddess AU, M/M, Slice of Life, Story Collection, Vampire AU, Werewolf AU, mermaid au, mythology AU, sfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27327025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apenootje/pseuds/Apenootje
Summary: A collection of OtaYuri short stories/scenes written in October 2020.For additional info and a full list of prompts, sources, trigger warnings and specific tags please look at the introduction in the first chapter.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Kudos: 15





	1. Introduction (to be updated)

Hello!

This past October I have done a prompt challenge with three goals in mind: to challenge myself to write every day for a month, to post things even when I am not 100 percent happy about them, and to do as little editing as possible. This has resulted in 31 different stories to be posted in this collection!

**The (original) challenge rules:**

-Pick one prompt a day from one of three writing challenges.

-Write somewhere between 500-1500 words.

-Post the prompt on the corresponding day of November (The 1st prompt posted on November 1st etc.) _Note: this has changed into every other day._

-Just write and have fun, don’t think about it too much. 

~~(Spoiler alert: I only sort of managed to stick to the first rule.)~~

**General notes:**

\- All of these stories are OtaYuri, various AU’s, none related to any current works in progress.

-They are not beta-read and I'm still not a native speaker so grammar/writing errors are inevitable. 

-All of them are SFW (contain no sexual content) , for other trigger warnings (blood, violence and homophobia) please look at the list below (which will be updated as I go along). I do not have mild swearing as a trigger warning, and am sure to have missed a lot of them, so please let me know if you feel like a trigger needs to be added. 

-Not every story will perfectly fit the prompt, even though all of them are in fact inspired by them. I tried, and sometimes failed.

-Like mentioned before, these are edited in way too little time so they aren't as polished as I would have liked. If things are a little clumsy/rough sorry about that. 

-I will try my very best to post every other day. However, considering my editing speed, the amount of things I still have to fill in, and the length some of these grown into, it may be that at some point I will not be able to. I am trying my best though.

Please enjoy!

**List of prompts (+ other information) (to be updated)**

**Day 1: Sunrise **(Vampire AU, Approx. 1500 words) 

**Tw** : implied major character death (off screen).

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Victor Nikiforov. 

**Prompt source:** B

 **Day 2: Apple scent** (Slice of life AU, Approx. 2300 words)

 **Tw:** None 

**Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky.

 **Prompt source:** C

 **Day 3: Fog** (High Fantasy AU, Approx. 1700 words)

 **TW:** none 

**Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** A

 **Day 4: Apparition** (Modern Fantasy (Ghost) AU, Approx. 2800 words)

 **TW:** Implied major character death (off screen)

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky 

**Prompt source:** A

 **Day 5:Forgotten** (Modern Fantasy AU/ Werewolf AU)

 **TW:** Kidnapping (implicit) 

**Characters:** Otabek Altin 

**Special note:** Companion piece to day 22: Alone

 **Prompt source:** A

 **Day 6: Cauldron** (Witch AU, Approx. 3800 words) 

**TW:** None 

**Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** A 

**Day 7: Fangs** (Vampire AU (Modern))

 **TW:** Blood(minor) 

**Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** A

 **Day 8:** **Umbrella’s** (Slice of life/Ballet AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** C

 **Day 9:Ravens** (Modern Fantasy AU)

 **TW:** Homophobia, Violence 

**Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky 

**Prompt source:** C 

**Day 10: Masquerade** (Historical Fantasy (demon) AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** A 

**Day 11: Wicked** (High Fantasy AU/DND inspired AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** A

 **Day 12: Drip** (High Fantasy AU/DND inspired AU)

 **TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** B 

**Day 13:** **Black cat** (Modern Fantasy (Shape shifter) AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** C

 **Day 14:Spooky** (Slice of life AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** C

 **Day 15: Myth** (Mythology AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** B 

**Day 16:** **Carved** (High fantasy AU/DND AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** A 

**Day 17:** **Superstition** (Slice of life AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** A

 **Day 18: Midnight** (Cinderella Werewolf AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky, Victor Nikiforov

 **Prompt source:** A

 **Day 19: Undead** (Witch AU) 

**TW:** Reanimated cats

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky 

**Prompt source:** A 

**Day 20:** **Glow** (Mermaid AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** B

 **Day 21:Lure** (Mermaid AU) 

**TW:** Mind control

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** A

 **Day 22:Alone** (Werewolf/Modern fantasy AU) 

**TW:** Blood, Violence 

**Characters:** Yuri Plisetsky 

**Prompt source:** B

 **Special note:** Companion to day 5: Forgotten

 **Day 23: Harvest** (Historical (Medieval) AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** C 

**Day 24: Teeth** (Modern Fantasy (Werewolf) AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** B

**Day 25: Spell/Flowers TBA**

**TW:** None

**Characters:**

**Prompt source:** A/B 

**Day 26: Campfire** (Modern Fantasy AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky 

**Prompt source:** C

 **Day 27: Witches** (Modern Fantasy AU/Witches AU) 

**TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** C

 **Day 28: Disguise** (Modern fantasy (Demon) AU) 

**TW:** Implied sexual themes (mentioned)

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky 

**Prompt source:** A

 **Day 29:** **Stormy Days **(Modern Fantasy Au)

 **TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky 

**Prompt source:** C 

**Day 30:** **Flight** (Werewolf AU/High Fantasy AU)

 **TW:** Blood, War

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky 

**Prompt source:** B

 **Day 31: Trick or treat** (Slice of life AU)

 **TW:** None

 **Characters:** Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky

 **Prompt source:** C

 **Prompt source list:**

**A=** https://thewritershandbook.tumblr.com/

 **B=** https://oc-growth-and-development.tumblr.com/

 **C=** https://creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/ 


	2. Day 1: Sunrise (Vampire Au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So it does nothing to you?” Victor asked in a voice of hushed pain and disbelief, as if Otabek had just kicked a puppy in front of him. “It doesn’t affect you at all? I cannot believe that. You’re not…”
> 
>  _Cold?_ He wanted to ask, _a monster? Go on say it. Shout at me one last time then run off and never speak to me again. Go on and tell anyone and everyone that I'm heartless. Make me the pariah I want to be. So everyone will leave me alone._
> 
> But the man didn’t. Staring at him with hurt in his puppy eyes. Begging him silently to stop. To not to do this. To say that he was just not feeling himself and apologize. But instead Otabek found himself holding another dagger of words in his mind, testing its weight for a moment and hoping it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: vampire, implied character death, canon-divergence?, freeform.

“Do you ever think of him?”

Victor’s sudden question caught Otabek completely off guard. He had been lost in a world of his own. A world of new training schedules and world cups, what to cook for dinner and how much toilet paper was still left. All the while keeping an absentminded eye on the sky ever brightening above the Neva. Watching. Waiting. Expecting some sort of movement at any time as the morning progressed. All the while completely forgetting the man beside him. Too used to the silence that seemed to have found a comfortable spot between them over the months, to start a conversation on his own.

“Hmm?” he asked now, tearing his eyes away from the pinks and purples streaking the sky to meet the blue of the Victors eyes. Noting how his bottom lip was stuck in between his teeth, his gaze flitting from back and forth between Otabek’s eyes and the middle distance, as he was searching for the words to speak. Sighing deeply before he finally did, looking him straight in the eyes as he spoke.

“Don’t take me for a fool Otabek. Yuri. It’s been what… Two months now? Yurio. You guys were... close. Closer than me and Yuri ever could have been. And I know that you dropped everything in Almaty to get here after the accident. That you held his hand through whatever illness it was that drove him to madness. That you were the last one he saw when he… You know…And I’m trying not to judge you because this has to be hard on you…”

“But?”

The man flinched, glancing once again at his feet and back up again. Swallowing once and squaring his shoulders as if ready for a fight.

“You’re not in mourning. I don’t think you’ve ever been. You have moved on so quickly it seems... off. Perhaps it isn’t my business but. Yurio... He would have wanted us to look out for you.”

“I’m fine Victor.” Otabek mumbled back, unimpressed by the accusation. Trying had to ignore the burning need he felt to correct his friend. To tell him that it had been almost three months by that point. Two months, 27 days and 7 hours.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He had to keep his mouth shut. He had to be cold. Had to make them all believe that he had cut Yuri’s memory out of his life the moment his love’s heart gave out, tearing Otabek’s in two.

So he met his friend’s concerned gaze head on, keeping his own as emotionless and cold as he could even if it hurt him doing so.

“It was bad luck. He got sick and died. Yes, we were close. But not as close as you seem to think we were. Friends, rivals, roommates sometimes.” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, trying to keep his voice steady even as it threatened to crack. His mind replaying the nightmarish images of a ghostly pale Yuri in a hospital bed, the machine monitoring his heart rate as it seemingly kept plummeting. A memory that made him want to scream and tear out his hear in grief. Instead he looked like an animated manikin, spitting out words that held no meaning to him. “Things happen. Why would I rage over something I cannot change? Why cry over spilled milk? What’s done is done. We all have to move on.”

Victor’s eyes held a million emotions as he listened, compassion, wonder, disbelief before ending in despair. As if the raft he had been clinging on at open sea was sinking underneath him. It was then that Otabek realized how cruel he was truly being. He had known from the beginning that the man had wanted to mourn together with him. That he had hoped that if they would stick together they could keep Yuri alive for a little longer. Through memory, through comradery. Just for a little while longer as they figured out a way to give it a place.

Together.

Yet here Otabek was. Taking a sledgehammer to that already fragile hope by flatly declaring him dead without hesitation.

Because together did not exist. Not any longer.

Otabek simply _couldn’t_ be close to them. Not to Victor, not to Yuuri, not to Phichit. Not to anyone else. No matter how close they had been before. No matter how well their intentions were for him. Because to be close to them would be to lie. And he couldn’t lie forever.

So it was better to make them believe that he was the worst piece of trash on the planet at that moment. While their world was still trying to rebalance itself. While their emotions were still in flux as they tried to find a path forward in the darkness.

The only thing he had to convince them of was that the path was better without him in it. Even if that meant hurting people he had grown fond of over the years. Even if that meant feeling their scorn at every training and world cup. He had no other choice. He had to protect his secret. Yuri’s secret.

“So it does nothing to you?” Victor asked in a voice of hushed pain and disbelief, as if Otabek had just kicked a puppy in front of him. “It doesn’t affect you at all? I cannot believe that. You’re not…”

 _Cold?_ He wanted to ask, _a monster? Go on say it. Shout at me one last time then run off and never speak to me again. Go on and tell anyone and everyone that I’m heartless. Make me the pariah I want to be. So everyone will leave me alone._

But the man didn’t. Staring at him with hurt in his puppy eyes. Begging him silently to stop. To not to do this. To say that he was just not feeling himself and apologize. But instead Otabek found himself holding another dagger of words in his mind, testing its weight for a moment and hoping it would be enough.

“Yet it’s true.” He said, meeting the gaze in Victor’s puffy, dull and bloodshot eyes. Not flinching for a second even if they seemed to be an accusation of their own. _That’s how his should look_ , they seemed to say. _Not clear and well slept like yours are._ They hurt, he wasn’t going to lie, but he mentally shook it off. Summoning the most disgusting little smile he could muster on his face before flinging away his final folly. Making sure never to lose eye contact.

“He died, Victor. Shit happens.”

The words stopped Victor dead in his tracks in the middle of the crowd. As if slapped or shot, not caring for all the profanities people were shouting at him as they almost collided with him. All he had eye for was Otabek. Who had followed his example one step later, hands resting in the pockets of his coat as he waited. Just waited. Watching every little move the man made as desperation and defeat turned to a seemingly blind rage. The man’s spine straightening to a rod, his jaw clenching painfully tight, his hand fisted at his sides.

For a moment Otabek expected to get punched in the jaw. Like he was asking for. Like he deserved. Because he fully knew he had gone too far.

But the moment he did Victor seemed to compose himself. Closing his eyes and pushing a breath through flared nostrils like an angry bull, before smoothing out his expression into a wax copy of himself. The only thing betraying his true feelings the lingering rage in his eyes.

“How can you be such a cold _dick_?” He spat at him. His fists trembling. “You should be ashamed. _Yurio_ would be ashamed of you.”

And with that hissed statement Victor brushed left him behind, bumping into him, and a few people more, as he waded his way through the early morning crowd, his eyes trimmed on the horizon. 

Otabek watched him go, watched until the grey of his hair and the tan of his trench-coat had blended in with the crowd. Pushing away the little pangs of guilt and regret that always came on the heels of a conversation like this. Before returning his gaze to the ever brightening sky. Heralding another lovely day. Chasing a black cloud out in front of it of which Otabek took a relieved note.

Bats. Hundreds of bats. A colony so unnaturally large and dense it had heads turn and murmurs start to rise.

“Vampires,” he heard someone beside him jokingly say, his camera flashing as they snapped a couple pictures. “Dracula’s coming home to his wife.”

He smiled with them, imagining their reaction if he were to tell them they were right. That the swarm of bats racing the first rays of sun was actually his boyfriend returning home after a long night of feeding.

They would laugh even louder then he imagined. Or look at him as if he had lost his mind. Both completely fair as he would do the same.

As it was they nodded their goodbyes and left in the same direction Victor had disappeared in leaving Otabek behind to mull over the conversations he had just had.

 _So many lies._ His mind whispered. The little pang of guilt lifting its ugly head again. Only to be pushed away again as he reminded himself to keep the eyes on the reward at the end. His boyfriend. That it would all be worth it. Because Yuri would enter their home at any moment. Covered in blood and mentally exhausted, but alive. So different from the pale apparition he had found in the hospital bed where he had almost lost him.

And would do it again and again. Probably longer than he would live.

It was worth the lies. The cold indifference. The distance and the guilt. Even if he wanted nothing more than be honest. To mourn Yuri’s human life with all their friends and cry the tears of grief of stress and joy that weighted down his heart. To drag them to their home and show them the truth.

But he couldn’t. Because if he did it would it all would fall apart. As the more people knew the more danger Yuri would be in, and the bigger then chance that he would have to go.

So he kept his silence and played the role of the asshole Victor justly accused him of being. Taking a knife to most of the ties he had ever made.

Because Yuri lived. Because the goal sanctified the means. Because it was the only way Yuri would return to his arms every time he went home. 

“Because I don’t have a choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! welcome to my little October side project I did when editing Winter got a bit too much under my skin. 31 prompt words at the moment of writing about 40000 words of text and growing. Yeah.. "little". I hope you all enjoy what I've come up with beginning with a, very classic type of, vampire story for "sunrise" which I'm actually quite happy with. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed, and please let me know, if you want, which prompt you are most excited for because I would love to know!


	3. Day 2: Apple Scent (slice of life au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, I don’t think…” Yuri’s words abruptly faltered in the middle of his sentence. His jaw dropping and head snapping up to meet his gaze. Green-blue eyes wide in disbelief. “You don’t think.” The man whispered, leaning into Otabek’s shoulder as if to pass on a secret. “You don’t think that those signs we saw on the way here, you know the ones advertising this place, were a portal of some kind now were they? Are we… How big is the chance that we are with Fae right now you think?”
> 
> For a moment. Just a split second. He believed his boyfriend to be serious. That something in the change of scenery or the clear forest air had gotten to his head. An allergy or hallucinogen or something. That was, until he took a look good at his eyes and caught the mischievous little sparkle in them, and realized he was being messed with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Fluff, slice of life, just a casual afternoon at a fair, totally doesn’t fit the prompt.

When he woke up that morning Otabek could have never guessed where he would have found himself that afternoon. It felt too much like another world. One where the ground was made of dry browned grass and fallen leaves. Where the air was thick with the smell of caramel, baked apples, cinnamon and roasted nuts wafting out from gingham covered stalls on either side. And where people’s voices praising their wares, pies, hot chocolate, cider, mulled wines and all sorts of crafts and produce, echoed out over a steady noise of chatter and laughter.

The crowd so thick he and Yuri, walking arm in arm like a couple on their fiftieth year of marriage, seemed to be bumping shoulders with strangers talking about sheep, pumpkins and corn mazes in what felt like every other second. The city he and Yuri lived in, with its tall skyscrapers and dreary grey streets, seemingly so far away that it had seized to exist, even if it was just an hour drive.

“Where even are we?”

Otabek shrugged at the question his boyfriend whispered in awe. His eyes following a little girl entering the crowd from one of the stalls, a stick of pink candy floss as big as her head clutched in one fist. Bobbing along as she skilfully wove in between the sea of people, before slowing down to a walk in between what Otabek assumed were her parents. Judging by their delighted laughter.

“I have no idea.” He replied, looking back at his boyfriend walking by his side, who had no eye for him. His head turning to soak in as much of his surroundings as possible. “Does it really matter?”

“No, I don’t think…” Yuri’s words abruptly faltered in the middle of his sentence. His jaw dropping and head snapping up to meet his gaze. Green-blue eyes wide in disbelief. “You don’t think.” The man whispered, leaning into Otabek’s shoulder as if to pass on a secret. “You don’t think that those signs we saw on the way here, you know the ones advertising this place, were a portal of some kind now were they? Are we… How big is the chance that we are with Fae right now you think?”

For a moment. Just a split second. He believed his boyfriend to be serious. That something in the change of scenery or the clear forest air had gotten to his head. An allergy or hallucinogen or something. That was, until he took a look good at his eyes and caught the mischievous little sparkle in them, and realized he was being messed with.

“I don’t think so Yura.” He told him, his face as serious as he could manage with the laughter bubbling in the back of his throat. “For some reason I don’t think the Fae would make billboards to put next to the road.”

“Would be one hell of a way to do it though.”

This time he couldn’t hold his laughter. The image of ethereal Fae, wearing pinafore dresses and blue denim coveralls for some reason, painting ears of corn, pumpkins, fall leaves and big bold letters reading _Autumnal fair, free entry! Next exit_ on a piece of wood was just too ridiculous for his mind.

“Yeah it would.” He said when he caught his breath, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “More important question though. Have you seen anything yet that would be worth risking getting stuck with the Fae for?” 

“Maybe?”

He slowly shook his head. Knowing his boyfriend all too well to guess what was coming.

“Don’t tell me its hot chocolate.”

Yuri’s sudden silence said all. Otabek didn’t even need the sassy raised eyebrow and deadpan gaze he got when he looked down in curiosity. “You know” it said. Which was true, he did know. It was hot chocolate. It was always hot chocolate.

“You and your damned sweet tooth! One day those pearly whites of yours will rot and drop out and I’m not pre-chewing your food for you babe. Ouch!”

The slap Yuri gave him wasn’t hard enough to sting. Nor did the glare the man gave him really hide the corners of his mouth wanting to kick up into a smile, still Otabek played along. Raising his hands in defeat before tucking his boyfriend back into his side. One arm slipped around his waist pulling him close to press a kiss to the chilled skin of his temple.

“Don’t be mean, Beka.” His boyfriend muttered as he did so, head leaning warm and heavy on his shoulder for a bit. His light blue scarf pulled up to his nose muffling the sound. “It’s my first of the season. Besides, could be a good look for Halloween. I could be an evil crone. One with like three teeth and a cataract eye. Do all the make-up before you get up and slip back in bed just to scare you.”

He tried to imagine it. Opening his eyes in the morning to find his beautiful Yuri transformed in an ugly hag. One eye glazed over with white. Cobwebs dangling from stringy, matted blonde hair and his wide smile filled with rotten yellow teeth.

And still felt the urge to kiss him and pull him close.

Perhaps it was even in his fantasy he knew it to be a costume. Perhaps it was just impossible to imagine in the first place. But in his mind the tangle of hair would straighten out again with a brushing. The teeth clear up after a dental visit, or false teeth, and even with his one eye white, creepy and dead, the other one would still hold that mischievous sparkle that he loved so much and would love until the end of his days.

“You would still be beautiful.” 

Yuri’s eyes held a trace of suspicion for a moment while he seemed to mull over his word. Their pupils flitting back and forth as they searched his face. But in the end he rolled them and sighed in defeat.

“You’re a cheesy charmer Otabek Altin, but luckily for you I can’t seem to stop liking it.”

His eyes wrinkled along with his smile at Yuri’s annoyed tone. Then turned to laughter as he bent over to press another kiss to his hair, only to be half-heartedly pushed away.

“I will take it. Come on let’s get you that chocolate.”

He led them away, turning on his heels and weaving back through the buzzing crowd until stood in front of the little stall he had seen Yuri eye when they had just arrived. The waft of chocolate and cinnamon so strong from underneath the tarp that it met them three stalls earlier. The woman tending the place with a cheerful smile greeting them with the enthusiasm to match, rubbing her hands against the chilly October breeze.

“Good afternoon,” he replied her cheery welcome. “Can I have two hot chocolates please?”

“Certainly. Marshmallows and whipped cream?”

A silence fell, but this time he had expected it. Yuri liked to “test him” meaning that the man would at random moments hold his tongue and let him order for him. Just to see if he played attention.

Well, challenge accepted. Especially if he was going to ask a question that easy.

Almost too easy.

To the point that he could help but hesitate. Glancing back over his shoulder to see if he was being pulled a double bluff. But Yuri looked angelically innocent. A tongue in cheek smile playing with his lips when their gazes met, fully aware of what psychological warfare he was conducting.

“Yes, for the marshmallows, no for the whipped cream.” Otabek finally said after a split second more of consideration. The “yes” dragged out a little longer than needed as the suspicion lingered. His eyes holding Yuri’s gaze for a second longer to see if he had lost. “Please.”

Not that the woman really noticed.

“Coming right up!” she said, giving them a little nod before starting to rummage around. Making idle chatter about the festival as she did so.

Apparently the people of the small town held it every year ever since decades before a local corn farmer had set up a corn maze for Halloween. At first it was small but year and year again new attractions would be added, little stalls of food and crafts, until it had grown to what it was that day. Still relatively small but purposely so and known far and wide.

The winners of their pie festival would come on the local news as well as the pumpkin growing king or queen and the city newspaper would never fail to comment on her chocolate and cupcakes of which she made new flavours every year.

There was so much pride and warmth in her voice and enthusiasm that neither Yuri nor Otabek dared to admit to her that they had never heard of it before. Nodding and lying when she asked if they were regular visitors.

“Second time.” Otabek pressed her to heart.

“Third time.” Yuri told her at the exact same time.

It earned them an odd look, but whatever comment she wanted to make stayed on the tip of her tongue as she handed them their white paper cups with fall motives and said her goodbyes.

They lasted one shared look, bursting out laughing as soon as they had left her field of vision. Before strolling away, drinks in hand, resuming their window-shopping of woodcarvings and paintings, dog harnesses and quilts. Which, while interesting became repetitive after a while. So when Yuri tugged on his arm and rose on tiptoe he went without question. Humming as their cold lips pressed together for a moment.

“I’m getting tired.” He heard his boyfriend whisper when they separated, the taste of chocolate lingering on his lips. “I think I’m going to find some place to sit for a bit. You carry on.”

“Okay. I believe there is a campfire somewhere further along the way. Want to meet up there? I won’t take long”

“Sure. I will find us a spot. Want me to take your cup?”

Otabek nodded, handing him a half empty cup of chocolate and mumbling a goodbye. The October air instantly dropping a few degrees in temperature when Yuri left his arms and walked away. Melding into the crowd to return to his absentminded scanning of wares.

Except it didn’t feel the same.

Every time he saw something interesting he caught himself wanting to turn and point it out to Yuri. Which sucked the fun out of things real fast. Driving him into the same direction as his boyfriend had disappeared into, a slice of “the world’s best” apple pie and a bag of fresh roasted nuts in hand. The rows of gingham stalls that had seemed endless when they had first entered the terrain, opening up after a couple of minutes. Making space for a gently flickering fire pit, surrounded by two circles of straw bales, casting shadows on piles of yellow, orange and red leaves. On one of them, among the people of all sizes and ages chattering and laughing, sipping bottles of beer and eating food, sat Yuri.

His boyfriend had claimed a seat in the inner ring overlooking the fire, cup of chocolate in hand. Feet tapping along with the small band playing a tune. Seemingly completely absorbed, yet when Otabek moved close, close enough to cup his jaw and kiss his cheek form behind, the man didn’t even jump.

“Hey.” He mumbled instead, smiling warmly as he made some space. “Back so soon?”

“Yeah there wasn’t anything more interesting than you. How’s the chocolate?"

His boyfriends smile grew impossibly wider, making him look young and adorable. His cheeks red due to the flames adding infinitely to the cuteness.

“Amazing. Was very tempted to one shot mine and sip yours. Come sit. ”

He did, taking the cup from his hand after setting the pie and bag down between them. The chocolate in it was lukewarm at that point, but still tasted delicious and sweet. Still he didn’t hesitate to offer it back right after. 

“Go ahead. I think if I drink the entire thing I will be nauseous.”

“I know but still. It’s so good! I can’t do that to you.”

“Except you definitely can. Safe me all the vomiting.”

The man rolled his eyes, resorting to taking a bite of pie instead of arguing. A low moan escaping him as he chewed, eyes rolled back in delight.

“That,” he said pointing with his paper fork. “Is absolutely amazing. I was joking before but are these people really Fae? Will we be able to leave? Because I’m not certain anymore.”

Otabek rolled his eyes, laughing at Yuri’s dramatics. Except it only took him one scoop of his own to realize that it hadn’t been dramatics at all, the taste hitting him like a truck. The balance of sweet and tart just right, enhanced by spices that gave it a warmth and depth that had his brow furrowing as he tried to unravel it. Only to find that he couldn’t.

Magic. It had to be magic.

“Even if we aren’t allowed to leave,” he said instead of voicing his thoughts, his mouth still half full with pie. “Would it be worth it? Are you regretting getting dragged out of bed by me this morning?”

His boyfriend chuckled, his cup resting against his bottom lip, his eyes following the smoke drifting off the fire towards the heavens. One hand wedged between his crossed legs for warmth. 

“At first I was, just because it’s cold and all my fingers and toes feel numb. But now I have to admit it might be the best decision we’ve made in a long time. And hey.” A grin on appeared on his face so radiant it had Otabek’s heart skip a beat when their gazes met. “Even if the Fae take me and I have to live with them for the rest of my life at least you will be there too, keeping me company. So I don’t think it will be that bad.”

Otabek returned his smile, feeling warmer and happier that he thought possible in weather that clouded his breath and made his toes numb. Before lifting his paper cup to the air like a wineglass. 

“I’ll toast to that.” He said, holding his boyfriends gaze. “To eternity with the Fae.”

“No Beka,” Yuri replied, tapping their cups together for a moment. “To eternity with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second prompt done. It is far from my favorite, and I spent way longer on it than I should have but its done. I wanted to go for a scene inspired by the book "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern. Really focusing on these like whimsical surrounding as she does so amazingly, but I fell flat. Then also realized that I wasn't using the plot in the slightest so oops. Not my best piece but I hope you enjoyed anyway.


	4. Day 3: Fog (High Fantasy/Mythology Au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They send a child?”
> 
> Otabek flinched at question. One similar to the one that had earned him a glare that morning when he had dared to raise it himself.
> 
> _“Grandma? Why can’t you go yourself?”_
> 
> His grandma had stilled in front of the fire. Her wrinkly fingers lingering in the dough she was kneading. Her dark eyes lifting up for just a moment to deliver that quiet look before returning to her work. Her greyed hair moving along as she shook her head in disapproval.
> 
> _“Don’t ask stupid questions Otabek. The Master of the Mist doesn’t deal with grownups anymore. Hasn’t for eons. Adults lie and deceive, and thus they lies and deceives them. Now. Be respectful so you do not anger them, and whatever you do. For the love of the gods. Be. Honest.”_
> 
> Be honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: High Fantasy, aged down characters, deity, god, freeform, SFW,

_Take ten steps past the oak tree on the moor._

_Until the fog thickens and swallows you._

_A little blue light will lead you to its Master, ancient and powerful._

_They might help you if you ask politely. Curse you if you don’t._

_Bring a gift to gain their good graces, something small and sweet._

_Then pray._

_Pray that it will not lead you astray, that it will not bring you death._

_Do not follow it into the fog, no matter what they offer you._

_Listen to their wisdom. Thank them for their kindness._

_And whatever you do: do not turn your back until you’re dismissed._

The little basket with two jars of last summer’s strawberry preserve jingled along with Otabek’s trembling arm. He stood frozen like a deer in front of a hunter. Eyes wide and pulse a rapid drum under his skin. Uncertain of what else to do than just stare. Stare into the thick fog that had come out of nowhere to blanket the bed of purple flowers under his shoes. Obscuring every bit of vision he had. Closing off his visual of the oak tree, his only landmark to provide direction. Leaving his to strain his ears for any sort of sound to compromise. But it was quiet. Eerily quiet. No birds, no wind in the trees. As if sound itself had seized to exist.

It seemed pointless to move on as it was. Otabek had no idea where he was, nor had he any idea what he was exactly looking for. The wisp that was supposed to guide him not having showed themselves, leaving an opening for fear to grab him by the heart and not let go. Urging his eyes to dart around him to scan for any type of motion.

Nothing.

Nothing again.

Then suddenly, out of the corner of his eye: movement. A rustling of grass causing him to start and spin around on his heels. The jars in his basket jingling even harder as they got knocked about in the sudden movement. A word slipping past his lips he would’ve gotten an earful for if his mother had been near him. The sound loud in the quiet. Too loud.

But whatever it was that approached him did not show any sign that it had heard. Continuing its slow walk towards him, step by slow step. Taking its time. A shadow slowly taking shape.

It looked human, taller and thinner than Otabek had ever seen a human be. The only thing indicating it wasn’t a massive stack of antlers of what had to be an ancient sprouting from their head.

Or so it seemed at first.

As the seconds passed the shape changed. Shrinking inches with every step until finally, when the mist parted and revealed its secret, the creature stood as tall as Otabek itself. The antler branches, adorned with red poppies, orange anemone’s and yellow chrysanthemums, growing from its head no bigger than that of a yearling buck.

Just a little boy with pale skin, golden hair and antlers. A little strange but nothing to fear. Otabek heard himself think. His heart calming a little.

But then they opened their lips to speak.

“What brings you here?” The creature said with a voice that held a thousand whispers. Their blue green eyes holding his gaze with an intensity and weight that shattered every sense of security Otabek had just gained. Leaving behind bone wrenching terror. So strong it threatened to take his legs out from underneath him and had tears burning in his eyes. Installing an incredible urge to run. To save himself from whatever it was that stood in front of him.

But he could not run away. He had to be brave. That the task he had been given too important to just abandon.

So he steeled his spine and forced himself to take a breath. Like his mother always told him to do whenever he was scared of storms and lightning. Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment to push the queasiness the nerves had brought with them down.

When his eyes opened again it was to meet the Master of Mist’s gaze head on for a fleeting moment. Just long enough to note the colour of their eyes and the lack of emotion in their expression. Before averting his gaze and lowering his head in respect as he had been told to do.

“My mother is ill Master.” He said then, eyes still on the misty ground. Somewhat proud of how steady his voice had come out even with the tension in the air.

His words were replied to with silence. Lingering so long Otabek couldn’t help but wonder if he had offended the Master without him noticing. If he had been left behind.

Yet when he finally dared to peek from underneath his lashes, it was to find the boy shaped creature still there. Looking at him. Head tilted. A bit of golden hair obscuring blue green eyes that held a curious gaze. One that, even with the sheer power radiating from it, was not that unfriendly. Yet nevertheless filled him with the intense desire to run as fast as his short legs could carry and never return. Kept back only by his sense of duty and his grandma’s stern voice ringing in the back of his mind. His ear burning at the memory of her long fingernails pushing down on his earlobe.

_Whatever you do, don’t leave unless dismissed._

So he stayed. Patient. Every muscle rigid as if under attack, as he felt the gaze slowly move over him. Studying him. Judging him. Freezing him in place until finally the eerie voice broke the quiet again.

“They send a child?”

Otabek flinched at question. One similar to the one that had earned him a glare that morning when he had dared to raise it himself.

_“Grandma? Why can’t you go yourself?”_

His grandma had stilled in front of the fire. Her wrinkly fingers lingering in the dough she was kneading. Her dark eyes lifting up for just a moment to deliver that quiet look before returning to her work. Her greyed hair moving along as she shook her head in disapproval.

_“Don’t ask stupid questions Otabek. The Master of the Mist doesn’t deal with grownups anymore. Hasn’t for eons. Adults lie and deceive, and thus they lies and deceives them. Now. Be respectful so you do not anger them, and whatever you do. For the love of the gods. Be. Honest.”_

Be honest.

But Otabek couldn’t be honest. Couldn’t answer the unspoken “why” he heard in the Master’s question. Couldn’t tell the Master that they all the grown-ups feared them. He didn’t dare.

“Y-Yes Master.” He said instead, playing dumb. His eyes focused on his muddy shoes. His heart pounding once again in his chest.

Would they ask? Would they pry? Call his bluff and demand more information until he couldn’t lie anymore?

Once again the creature took their time replying. Their head still cocked to one side like a curious dog. A single red petal drifting down to the ground, disappearing in the mist before Otabek could see it touch the ground.

The seconds ticked by slowly, his shoulders shrinking under their gaze. Until finally the creature blinked. Long lashes slowly fluttering shut and open again as their head began slowly cocking side to side to a melody only they seemed to hear. Like a snake entranced by a flute player. Startling Otabek when they suddenly locked eyes with him again. Pinning him down with another intense and heavy gaze. Raising the hairs on the back of his neck as it suddenly hit him how ancient the creature really was. Their glamour flickering for a split second colouring the blue green irises white.

“What ails her?” They asked as Otabek stood there frozen. Their voice calm and collected. Seemingly unknowing of the hitch in their illusion. Or unconcerned. 

“My grandma” Otabek replied a little fast, lowering his eyes as soon as he could. Glad to have something else to think about. Brow furrowing as he tried to remember the right order of words he had been told. “Says a baby has died in her…womb?”

“Ah.”

The Master of Mist gave a single nod of understanding of which Otabek was glad. For he himself had little understanding of what his grandma had meant. Only that it was bad and that they needed help quick. Help beyond what the village wise woman could provide them. Something only a deity could provide. Something magical.

Something hidden within the black folds of the long black cloak the creature wore it seemed. As the Master opened and lifted their hand to it. Muttering under their breath in a tongue Otabek had never heard before.

As they did the mist drew close before Otabek’s eyes. Lifting and swirling into a spiral above the Master’s hand, gathering in a glow in their outstretched palm. Until it disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a simple wooden bowl filled to the brim with leaves.

Odd fragrant leaves that tickled Otabek’s nose with their bitter scent even where he stood a few steps away. Still the more he looked at them, taking in their shape and size, the more they seemed like nothing special. Nothing different form the greens in his mother’s gardens or the herbs the wise woman grew in hers. Making him question with a sudden rush of panic if there were more Masters of the Mist. If he had found the wrong one. One that couldn’t help him at all.

Yet even if those thoughts came to mind, he was smart enough to keep them to himself. For even if he had found the wrong creature there was no mistake it would be unwise to make an enemy out of any deity. The only thing he could do was wait. Wait and stay calm until he was certain.

A smile came to the Masters face as he did so. Slow and wide as if they could read Otabek’s thoughts and were amused by them. Then they started to speak in tongues again. Drawn-out sounds and harsh hisses, setting the bowl aglow with a white light before fading back to normal. Leaving behind three strong smelling balls peeping over the rim that Otabek recognized as medicine.

“Here.” The creature told him. Scooping and pressing the mud brown balls into Otabek’s palm. Their long nailed, almost clawed, hand awfully cold to the touch. “This should do. It will clean the womb of all that’s left and return the fertile ground for the next seed to grow. Tell her to take one in the morning and one at night, and one again at the next new moon.- ”

“And she will live?”

He realized too late that his eagerness was awfully rude. His shock-wide eyes nervously flitting up to assess how big of a mistake he had made, but the Master of Mist only had an amused smile on their lips. Nodding solemnly as if swearing a vow.

“She will live.”

It was as if the very air suddenly lost weight. His fear lifting of his body and absorbed by the fog. Otabek felt his lips widen in a grin, dimpling his cheeks. The creature in the shape of a boy no longer a potential threat but an ally.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Oh, before I forget. Here, I brought this.” He held out the little basket with the jars still hanging from his arm. “I hope you will like it Master. I eat it every night after dinner and I think it’s really good.”

The little jars jingled as the clawed hand took it from his outstretched hand, and again when the little cloth covering was pushed aside to take a look. A fondness coming to the Master’s face that made them match the child of their disguise more truly.

“These will do just fine.” They assured him, smiling their white teeth bare, before tucking the little piece of cloth back and readjusting their cloak. After which it turned, walking slowly back the way they had come from. Pausing one last time two steps into the wall of mist. Their form already blurring as they held Otabek’s gaze for a long moment, nodding in his direction. “Until we may meet again Otabek Altin. “

Then they slowly vanished. Swallowed back by the fog they called home. Their form elongating, the antlers growing back to their ancient size. Clear for just a fleeting moment before their form started to blur and fade again as the white haze disappeared.

Otabek watched as long as it could. Standing there on the purple moor until the form was gone and the oak tree was once again present at his back. His palm clenched tight around the medicine that was to heal his mother. The setting sun casting an orange glow to his surroundings, making him realize with a start how much time had passed and how little he had left to waste. He had to be home. His mother needed him. Yet he couldn’t just run away. Casting one last glance on the wide open planes of the moor where the Master of Mist reigned supreme. Nodding his head in respect in the direction they had left. Before running towards home as fast as he could. 

With medicine clenched in his fist and a story he would remember to the day he died burning on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3, sorry it was a day late. I had to rearrange the upload schedule a little to account for some appointments later on. Plus its quite the challenge to keep it. But better late than never I suppose. 
> 
> I quite like this one. It's a little rushed and more about mist than fog but well... what can you do if you try to write, edit and post more than 40000 words in three months. Anyway. I am taking an extra day for the next one as well (I'm having a little issue with day 5). If all goes well day 4 Apparition should be posted on Monday (9th of Nov). 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Day 4: Apparition (Ghost Au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is old. It is grimy, depressingly dim-lit and it would take ages to clean completely. But on the other hand it also has low rent, came furnished, and, in the economy that he is dealing with, that is more than he should ask for.
> 
> _Don’t forget it comes with at least one ghost._
> 
> A snort escapes him at his mind’s reminder of why it was so cheap to rent. The sound echoing a little in the room. The walls still bare of anything to absorb noise. 
> 
> “Well Mr. Mrs. or Mx. ghost.” He mutters to no-one in particular. Thinking to himself, as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater, that he is glad he has no neighbours to hear him talk to himself. Like some weirdo. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can be friends.”
> 
> Silence. As expected. 
> 
> Then, just as he averts his eyes to the broom at his feet, the light start to flicker again. Rapidly. Like a strobe. Raising every single hair on the back of his neck until they stand straight. But when he whips his head around to look behind, all he sees is just an empty, grimy, room. Nothing. No ghost to be seen. 
> 
> He really needs to fix that faulty lightbulb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Ghosts, becoming friends with a ghost? 
> 
> (sorry I don't know what to tag this. Otabek moves into a haunted home with a friendly ghost.)
> 
> (Note: for some reason my brain insisted on writing this in present tense instead of my usual past tense. Because of it my grammar may be a little more wacky than usual. There was a lot of confusion and second guessing because I suddenly began to ask myself questions you should never ask yourself while writing. I hope it isn't too distracting)

Otabek watches the lights come on with a hesitant flicker, casting a soft warm glow in the empty attic room. He had hoped it would’ve bring some life to the place. As he watches the lightbulb struggle however he realises that it is, and had been, too much to ask of it. No matter what lighting he uses his new “home” would still look as awful as the day he had first stepped into it with his landlord. With oak floorboards creaking with every step. A layer of dust so thick it blends in perfectly with the white anti-dust coverings on most of the furniture, and with cobwebs in every corner of the ceiling that, if someone were to tell him they had housed a century worth of spiders, he would have no reason not to believe them.

It is old. It is grimy, depressingly dim-lit and it would take ages to clean completely. But on the other hand it also has low rent, came furnished, and, in the economy that he is dealing with, that is more than he should ask for.

_Don’t forget it comes with at least one ghost._

A snort escapes him at his mind’s reminder of why it was so cheap to rent. The sound echoing a little in the room. The walls still bare of anything to absorb noise.

“Well Mr. Mrs. or Mx. ghost.” He mutters to no-one in particular. Thinking to himself, as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater, that he is glad he has no neighbours to hear him talk to himself. Like some weirdo. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can be friends.”

Silence. As expected.

Then, just as he averts his eyes to the broom at his feet, the light start to flicker again. Rapidly. Like a strobe. Raising every single hair on the back of his neck until they stand straight. But when he whips his head around to look behind, all he sees is just an empty, grimy, room. Nothing. No ghost to be seen.

He really needs to fix that faulty lightbulb.

\--

His next week is spent, or wasted, in a valiant attempt to make the space more liveable. Opening windows to get rid of the musty smells. Getting rid of the cobwebs, after apologizing to their inhabitants. Getting rid of all rotten through furniture and things otherwise impossible to save. Before vacuuming the opened up floorboards for what feels like a hundred times. Until finally, _finally,_ Otabek is able to determine the colour of the floorboards underneath his socks. Pleasantly surprised to find that they are a nice dark oak adding a whole other, dark, layer to his new living space. 

All in all it takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears. Yet when after a week of hard work he crosses his arms to cast a look about the place, he cannot help but feel a little spark of satisfaction.

Sure the place is still as old, dim lit and tiny as before. Still has a kitchen even though it wasn’t supposed to. Which meant that smells any more intense than boiled potatoes would linger for hours.

But with a comfortable new bed, tall, bright Ikea book and kitchen shelves and strings of fairy lights strung across the ceiling to turn it into a dappled night sky every time he looks up at night. Combined with the furniture that had come with the room: an old leather chair, tall antique wardrobe and a big mirror that misses a shard and frankly freaks him out at night. Things slowly but surely settle down to form a home he feels like can live with.

It almost makes him forget the place is supposed to be haunted.

So the first time the old sink suddenly starts to spew brown water he shrugs and writes it off as old piping. And the first time he glances out of the corner of his eyes to see a flash of a figure in white standing in the mirror, he blinks and rubs his eyes. Only to find nothing afterwards. A trick of the light, he concludes. Or more likely one of his own eyes. Their revenge for him making them sit through an entire seasons worth of episodes in one sitting with only a pint of ice cream as fuel.

Either way nothing to change his views on any paranormal inhabitants in his living space.

Except that it happens again. And again. Slowly but surely becoming a daily occurrence. Never truly invasive. Never in the middle of the night. But often enough that it becomes impossible to just rationalise away. To make him glance at the mirror even when he doesn’t feel something watching. To make him say “hello” out loud, after he turns off the lights before bed. His heart beating almost audibly in his ears.

Yet whatever it is never takes the invitation to talk. Sticking to the moments in the broad daylight it for some reason prefers. Shooting his blood pressure into high heavens and his heart into his throat.

Until, as the days go by without anything really scary happening, he becomes used to it. The little ghost pranks just another part of the house and his life. Comparable to how the boiler always needs a minute before it warms the water. Or how the window gets stuck every time he tries to open it. And it happens quicker than he ever expects to be possible.

It surprises him.

Sure he hit wasn’t as if he had ever given much thought to how he would react to living with a ghost, nor had he ever considered himself a scaredy cat. But never in a million years would he have expected the fear to fade as fast as it does.

To the point that after only three weeks in his new home, he starts to wish it goodnight as he snuggles under the comforter for the night. The ceiling turning into the night sky for a split second in a response so normal at that point, that he doesn’t open his eyes for it anymore. Letting himself drift off to sleep instead.

It is almost as having a roommate or a strange sort of house pet, like a jumping spider or a fly. Something he doesn’t have to feed and asks little attention, but still is there every day of the week. Something he finds himself greeting every time he comes home, and randomly starts to talk to about his day.

He would even go as far as saying that it is quite nice to have it. Its presence and their one sided conversation doing a wonderful job combating the loneliness and homesickness that keeps creeping up to him every once in a while. Mostly after finishing up a conversation with his mom over skype.

Yet no matter how non- invasive, low maintenance and seemingly friendly his ghost is, like any pet it still manages to get on his nerves sometimes. 

Like the evening he comes home two months after moving, exhausted after a rough day at work and dealing with a glaring migraine… Only to find every light in the house flickering like a night club, and his will to live slipping from his body.

“Fuck off with the lights, I have a migraine. Just tell me what you want! ” He yells at that point. His eyes squeezed shut against the ever growing nausea, and his tongue pressed back against the roof of his mouth in an effort to soothe the pain the very moment he stops speaking.

It is a stupid thing to say. He had never been able to talk to his paranormal roommate before and there was no reason that had changed in the eight hours he had been at work. But in the delirium of pain he shouts it anyway, sighing a breath of relief when the colour of his eyelids instantly stop flickering red.

He revels in it for a moment. Eyes closed. Simply enjoying the blissful quiet. Before finally taking a deep breath and opening them again. Glaring daggers at the, what he expects to be, empty mirror.

But when he casts his eyes up the figure is actually there. Dressed in its usual long white shroud. Staring back with eyes that even in the dim moonlight seem to shift from green to blue.

Which in itself is already a little odd. Only to become even more so.

For where it, he, normally would have disappeared in a flash, it now lingers. Allowing Otabek a good long look for the first time ever.

Otabek had always expected his house ghost to look like something from a horror movie. Bloody, with black ichor dripping from his eyes or jaws. Or perhaps with his head half cut off. So he is somewhat taken aback when faced with a completely normal looking figure. Spotless. No hair out of place or wrinkle in his clothes. As if he is looking at some Victorian memorial photograph instead of a haunting ghost. Which, when he takes a moment to think about it, makes sense he supposes. For what horribly murdered wandering spirit would be so polite and subdued in its haunting?

What doesn’t make sense to him though is the worried look in the figures eyes. His head tilted to a side and eyebrows bunched together in a concerned frown. A ghost. Worried. For him. 

What the…

“E-ehh… I’m sorry?” Otabek hesitantly stammers, suddenly uncomfortable and more than a bit ashamed. “I shouldn’t have shouted. But I mean it. The lights really hurt. I have terrible headache and am really nauseous. So… it may be a strange request but could you please be kind and lower the hauntings tonight? I would really appreciate it. You can go wild when I feel better I swear. All day if you want to. Just not now.”

It may be the exhaustion. The migraine. Or perhaps just the reality of the situation truly dawning on him for the first time, but either way it feels like at that moment he crosses some point of no return. As if seeing and speaking to a ghost for real has finally set him on the path to total madness. Because it all suddenly just feels ridiculous.

A ghost in his house. _Talking_ to a ghost in his house. 

He closes his eyes again, rubbing his still throbbing temple.

 _Sleep._ A still sane bit of his mind tells him. _Just stop thinking about it and go to sleep._

“Yeah… I’m going to bed.” He tells the still present, still very worried looking ghost, feeling very awkward doing so. The whole situation just too surreal. “Have a good night?”

He doesn’t expect for the ghost to listen to him. He doesn’t even know if the ghost can even hear or understand. So when he slips in bed, after swallowing some pain meds and brushing his teeth, to find the lights still off when they would usually flicker. He cannot help but sigh a breath of relief.

“Thank you.” He murmurs half into the blankets he has tugged up to his chin. “You will get your haunting time when I feel better. Pinkie promise.”

There is no response. The room silent and the lights remaining off. Except that he notices, one half of his brain already off to sleep, that the temperature in the room seems to have dropped. Feeling like a balm to his battered head and bringing a smile to his lips.

“You’re the best. Two days of haunting. ”

\--

“Who are you?”

The question when he says it out loud in his empty attic room, seems to linger in the space for a moment. Taunting him in the silence, as it has done ever since he had first seen his ghost friend for the first time.

At first he had been very optimistic about his chances of finding a name. It was a ghost after all. How hard could it be to find information about a ghost? There were ghost hunters everywhere, surely at least one of them had done research on _his_ ghost. But now three library visits in and countless hours on the internet later he realizes it wasn’t as easy as it had looked.

For one because while the ghost was very active with him and, according to the landlord, had been with a lot of people before. It somehow hadn’t gotten any traction on the internet. Which meant he had no speculation to go on. That, combined with a list of former owners and inhabitants proved long, patchy at best and scarce in details, and only a mental image of what his ghost looks like, made what was supposed to be an easy query a task of gargantuan proportion. 

_Hopeless_ , his mind offers as he stands behind the sink to wash his hands, _that is what it is_.

And even though some small part of him wants to argue that it isn’t, most of him is forced to agree. For it is hopeless. He just has to accept it.

However, just as he is about to shake his head and make a list of reasons why it doesn’t matter whether or not he knows the name of his roommate, he is startled by a sudden rattling noise. Loud enough to make his heart jump and his head whip around to see what’s going on. To find that it is the big antique wardrobe precariously moving with a life of its own.

Or seemingly so.

“All right! All right!” He yells into the empty room. Taking a leap forwards to keep the heavy piece of furniture it from toppling over. “I know I technically asked you a question, but you don’t need to tear the house down to answer it. Remember the system?”

“The system” was the way of communication they had set up in the weeks since their first meeting. It had taken a lot of trial and error to find it, but their sudden change in relationship had given it a very high priority. As his roommate had gotten a lot less shy with him since then and a lot more vocal. Preferring one type of music over the other, and one series over the next. And while he didn’t always seemed to want to get his way, he did seem to, understandably, like to have his opinion heard. Which meant that Otabek had had to come up with some sort of communication that wasn’t just frantic light flickering or all the taps suddenly going on full.

At first they had tried writing. But while his ghost could manipulate things to actually write, he could only write in archaic Cyrillic, a script Otabek already struggled with in modern spelling. After that they had tried sound, but no matter how much they tried the ghost didn’t seem to be able to.

Which was how they had ended up with what Otabek simply called “the system” which boiled down to a very odd and frustrating game of charades. In which Otabek had to come up with questions and the ghost would answer them using a very basic pattern. One flicker of the lights meant yes, two no, and three meant the question was unrelated to the problem. It wasn’t perfect but at that point it was the best he could come up with.

So with the wardrobe still pushing against his palms he wracks his brain for a question.

“Do you want the wardrobe to move?” he asks, naming the first thing that comes to mind even if it’s the lamest one to ask.

The wardrobe stops struggling against his hands, standing perfectly still as if it hadn’t just been moving on its own.

One flicker.

“Okay,” He says, glancing over his shoulder at the mirror. Not surprised to find the ghost staring at him. “It needs to move. Does it matter to where?”

Two flickers.

“Got you. Hmm. So you want this spot cleared.”

He takes a step back to lean behind it, looking at the wall the wardrobe has revealed. But as he reaches forward in search of some hidden compartment along the wall, the lights go bonkers again. Making it very clear that he is doing something terribly wrong.

“Okay! Okay! Okay! Not the walls?”

Two flickers.

“Okay, the floor then?”

No flickers, which he can only assume to means yes. Yet the floorboards, when he takes a closer look, seem no different compared to anywhere else in the room. Leaving him confused. Only when he reaches forward to inspect a nail sticking out does he realise that one of the boards is loose. Hiding a little hollow storing a piece of paper.

“Is this what I’m looking for?”

One flicker.

“Good.”

He takes it out and to his desk, unfolding it as carefully as he can along the fragile folds.

The paper is old, yellowed in the light of his desk lamp and almost disintegrating in front of his eyes. But to his surprise most of the English words written on it are still legible. Telling him that in his hands he holds a piece of an old local newspaper dated the 5th of October 1867.

Which at first glance seems nothing out of the ordinary. Just a general wish-wash of advertisements and announcements making Otabek wonder if he has misunderstood or is being pranked. But then, just as he is about to fold it back up and make a sarcastic comment at his ghost for being cryptic he spots it. Down at the bottom of the page, near the crumpled, fraying edge.

A small square of text recounting the death of one Yuri Plisetsky. According to the newspaper an immigrant of Russian nationality.

The man had been found dead in the attic of the house he had shared with his landlady and her family. Seemingly without any obvious cause. The owner of the house and her children having reported to having seen him in the morning as they went to their work at the docks. Only to find him dead in his room as they returned home in the evening, already cold to the touch with only the remains of a fire in the hearth.

“Oh wow.” Otabek whispers as the reality of what he is reading slowly downs on him. The silence around him suddenly heavy and somehow filled with sorrow. “That’s really unlucky. Carbon Monoxide it sounds like. That family was lucky to be out for the day. I’m so sorry.” He pauses, reading the little section once more. “1867. Have you been here for all that time?”

One flicker.

Yes, he has been here all that time. Alone most likely.

“I’m so, so sorry.” He pauses. Searching for words, but unsure of what to say. For how do you reassure a ghost that has been dead for a century and a half? “I... I really don’t know what to say right now. Except that it’s nice to meet you for real now Yuri Plisetsky. And that I hope we can stay as good roommates as we were? Perhaps even friends now?”

He looks up, meeting Yuri’s gaze in the mirror. His smiling gaze, which in turn makes him smile as the lights give another single flicker. Yes. He wants to be friends.

“Good.” He says, his smile widening in a grin. “I would love that.”

\--

It is the start of a friendship that slowly but surely turns into something Otabek never wants to be without again.

Sure it has its ups and downs. With Yuri’s opinions getting ever stronger and as time progresses and his reservations on telling them ever lowering. Meaning that sometimes, mostly when he is stuffing his face with fried food, or watching television till three am, it feels as if he has never left his parents roof.

But all the little fights and negatives can only lose from all the positives. From the days where he comes home after a rough day to find music playing softly and the lights dimmed low. From the times they play card games together late at night when homesickness strikes. And from all the times the temperatures miraculously drop every time he starts to rub his eyes and temples more often than normal.

So when his mom asks how he fares living in an old haunted house. He doesn’t even have to lie saying that it is better than expected. Laughing at the dramatic shiver she gives him in reply, muttering a little prayer under her breath.

“Well at least the rent is cheap.” She tells his when she is done, looking him in the eye through the camera.

“Yeah.” He agrees, a smile on his lips as he glances at Yuri in the mirror. “At least the rent is cheap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you all enjoyed my first ever ghost AU. I had a lot of fun writing this one, even if half way in my brain decided to switch tense out of all sudden making things a lot harder for me that they had been. Thanks brain. 
> 
> I expect to post my next story "Forgotten" on Thursday but that too has quite a few knots still to untangle, so I might have to take four days for that. 
> 
> Have a nice day!


	6. Day 5: Forgotten (Modern fantasy/shapeshifter AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cast adrift in a strange limbo. His body even though present not entirely feeling as his own, even if rationally he knew it was.
> 
> Until eventually, after what felt like hours but in reality was maybe fifteen minutes, everything slowly but surely changed for the better. His head still heavy and throbbing, but the sounds in the room no longer sounding as if distorted by water. The fog in his mind slowly clearing, leaving behind question after question in its wake. Popping up one after another like mushrooms in fall.
> 
> _What is this place?_
> 
> _How did I get here?_
> 
> _Why am I here?_
> 
> The questions came and went. Flitting in and out of his consciousness like little birds as he watched his hand clench and unclench without him actively giving the command. Until his mind gave him a question that had him mentally halt in his tracks. His hand frozen on the sheet half clenched. The noises fading to the back of his mind as the panic finally arrived. Pushing through the eerie calm to speed up his heart and breathing.
> 
> _What is my name?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Angst, thriller/horror, kidnapping, drugs, blood, emotional abuse. 
> 
> Please be warned this has become a bit darker than I usually write.

The first thing he saw when the blur receded from his eyes was white. Pure, stark, white. Covering everything he could see, except for the windows beside him.

Ceilings, walls, cabinets, curtains.

Even his bed sheets, dappled from the sun coming in through the trees outside, were so brilliantly white that they hurt his eyes when he dared to glance down.

His hands clenched on impulse as he tried to figure out his surroundings. His eyes flitting back and forth in the room. Seeing everything, but not fully registering it. Feeling everything, the needle in his forearm connected to a bag, the tube in his throat blowing air in, without fully understanding.

 _Don’t panic._ He heard himself think, but even that puzzled him. Because he didn’t think he was. Didn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Too strangely dazed by whatever it was going on in his body to feel anything but calm. To do anything but wait whilst staring at the ceiling with the sheets clenched in his fists. A white noise of whizzing fans and beeping machines a constant in his ears.

Cast adrift in a strange limbo. His body even though present not entirely feeling as his own, even if rationally he knew it was.

Until eventually, after what felt like hours but in reality was maybe fifteen minutes, everything slowly but surely changed for the better. His head still heavy and throbbing, but the sounds in the room no longer sounding as if distorted by water. The fog in his mind slowly clearing, leaving behind question after question in its wake. Popping up one after another like mushrooms in fall.

_What is this place?_

_How did I get here?_

_Why am I here?_

The questions came and went. Flitting in and out of his consciousness like little birds as he watched his hand clench and unclench without him actively giving the command. Until his mind gave him a question that had him mentally halt in his tracks. His hand frozen on the sheet half clenched. The noises fading to the back of his mind as the panic finally arrived. Pushing through the eerie calm to speed up his heart and breathing.

_What is my name?_

He tried to remember. Yet even with the thickest of the fog gone, its effects still lingered. Every thought a struggle to form. Only to unravel before his eyes when they finally did, leaving him to chase threads leading him into frustration and desperation instead of another thought.

“Oh! You _are_ fully awake.”

The sudden voice ringing out in the quiet almost made him jump tearing him from his focus. It was pure luck he remembered all the tubes and wiring attached to his body just in time to force himself to stay still. His heart racing even faster than it had already done. His head whipping around to face the person that had appeared in the doorway.

It was a woman. Tall, with auburn hair pulled in a tight bun, and a toothpaste advert smile on her face. Wearing a spotless white frock that made her blend right in with her sterile surroundings.

_A hospital frock. He was in a hospital._

“I thought I saw something moving, but I didn’t expect you to be up already. I hadn’t expect you to be functional in any way or form for a few days more. Well, it doesn’t matter now does it? Good morning to you sleepy head.” She said in a chipper tone too fast for him to follow. Her heels clacking on the linoleum as she walked towards the machines to the side of his bed, clipboard in hand. Muttering to herself as she read the machines and took notes.

“Well,” she said when she was done, shooting him a glance over her shoulder. “That all looks good. Time to get this tube out then shall we? It doesn’t look like you’ll need it any longer.”

The woman didn’t wait for an answer, probably fully aware that he couldn’t give one, bending over him to fiddle with some things behind his head instead. Her face so close he could feel and smell her breath as she exhaled. Minty fresh. Perfect. Just like the rest of the strange place he found himself in.

It was tempting to dwell on it. To wage another battle with his drift sand thoughts to try and make some sense of it all. But he realized his mind was too treacherous, and besides she returned into full view before he could even try. Muttering “there we go.” Under her breath as she slowly eased the tube out of his throat, leaving it sore and scratchy as she rose back to her full height. “That should be better. So, how do you feel overall?”

_How did he feel?_

He had to think about it for a moment. Analysing his body bit by bit as if it was something foreign he needed to check.

His throat was sore. There was an iron-y taste in his mouth. His head was hazy and heavy and he couldn’t remember anything. Which all wasn’t too great, but on the other hand he wasn’t dead now was he? So he guessed it wasn’t too bad either. Or was it? He truly had no clue, lacking any sort of frame of reference to compare his situation to.

But the woman was waiting. Her pen pressed to the clipboard she had retrieved and an expectant look on her face. One he couldn’t seem to shake, but he for some reason wished to go away. Something about it he didn’t like, even if he couldn’t exactly put a finger on why.

Which meant she needed an answer. 

“I feel fine.” He croaked in the end, swallowing twice to get the scratchiness out of his sore throat finding no relief. His oesophagus feeling as if something had crawled into it. Still he forced a smile to his face when she did so too. His face feeling stiff and odd as if he hadn’t used those muscles in a long time.

“Good.” She said, her pearly white teeth bared. “I am glad to hear. I am sure you must be wanting something to drink. Your throat sounds horrible, I can’t imagine what it feels like. I will be right back and then we’ll be having a chat. You must have a lot of questions, you’ve been asleep for quite a while.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze. Kind and reassuring. Yet still he couldn’t help but feel like yanking his hand back. Something about her making him subconsciously tense up his muscles as if preparing to run. Except his body felt like a stone, non-responsive and heavy. Leaving him with nothing else to do than lay there and let things happen.

Luckily for him she let go after just a second. Turning and walking away after a small nod. Her heels click clacking away on the hard floor.

 _Odd shoe choice for a hospital._ Something in the back of his mind whispered as he watched her go. Which in itself felt like an odd thing to question. Something he would have to think about. Only not at that moment. He was too tired to put any more energy into thinking about anything.

All he knew and cared about in that moment was that he was glad to see her go. To have some more opportunity to get a good look at his surroundings. For the first time fully registering them. Seeing more colour in a room that at a first glance seemed just white.

The wooden bedside table with lamp. The black screen along the far wall, a television switched off. The clear bag of fluids still hooked to his wrist. The beeping machines monitoring his heartrate and vitals with green lines and numbers.

The black padded restraints half tucked away under the matrass.

A cold chill went down his spine.

_A hospital. But what kind?_

Did he want to know?

No, he really didn’t, but he needed to.

If he wanted answers there was no other choice than go and take a further look.

Except he didn’t get a chance. The woman returning the same moment he clutched the sheets in hand to flip them over.

She was without clipboard that time, holding a tray with a bowl of some sort of porridge and a tall glass of water on it. As well as a small plastic cup the size of his thumb filled to the brim with pills and tablets in various shapes and sizes.

“Your medication.” She said in response to him eyeing them, placing the tray on his legs. “Mostly vitamins and mineral supplements. You don’t have to take them all straight away, but it is important that you do. Your body has lost a lot of vital nutrients during your coma.”

He nodded meekly, taking the spoon and a bite under her watchful eye. For what else was there to do?

It was quiet as he ate. The only sounds in the room his slow chewing and the seemingly never ending hum of machinery. The nurse, having settled on the plastic chair next to his bed, watching over him like some sort of guardian. Her back straight as a rod, her legs crossed at the knees.

It should have been more unsettling as it was. Should’ve made him lose his appetite or made him nervous. But some part of his body, a part he hadn’t been aware off, had missed solid food. A lot. To the point that after the first hesitant bite he could only just hold himself back from inhaling it. Forgetting all about the strange situation he found himself in until he had wolfed it all down. Instantly becoming aware again of the intense gaze still upon him. Looking eager to say something, yet keeping her silence until after he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“I’m sorry for the small portion.” She said the instant he put it down on his plate, proving his suspicion. “It is so your stomach can cope after those weeks on liquids. I hope it wasn’t too bad.”

It had been bland. Like cardboard paste with a little sugar. But he kept his mouth shut and waited for what else she had to say. Because everything in her tone and word choice indicated that her question had just been rhetoric’s and common curtesy. His answer didn’t matter.

_His comfort didn’t matter._

He pushed the intrusive thought away. Returning his attention to the woman patiently waiting, the perfect smile ever present on her face.

“Well, now you have some food and water into you. We can finally chat. My name is Ileana and I am your nurse. It is a pleasure to meet you finally. How much do you remember?”

She was all friendliness. Her voice soft and gentle and light. Still the question she asked, although framed and intended to be casual, had him on guard. There was too much eagerness to her tone hidden beneath all the layers. As if the words had been burning a hole in her mouth for hours. 

Perhaps it was just excitement. She had been nursing him for god knew how long, perhaps she was just happy he had made it. Nothing weird or suspicious.

Except he just didn’t believe it. The same something that had pointed out all the other oddities warning him again.

 _Do not trust the friendly smiles and soft voice,_ it murmured in the back of his mind, _be aware._

Be aware of what?

“Are you listening?”

He tore himself away from his confusing thoughts. Blinking twice, his hands in a white knuckled grip in the sheets again. Soothing him. Anchoring him. Reminding him that he was awake. That everything he saw and felt was real. 

“What…” he asked when he felt a bit more in control again. Ignoring the low hum of terror that had taken a hold of him and seemed impossible to shake. “Am I supposed to remember?”

The woman laughed, a loud laugh that no matter how kind and gentle it sounded somehow felt like fingernails on a chalkboard. Patronizing. He realized. It was patronizing.

“Well…” She said after her laughter had died down. “Your name would be a start wouldn’t it? And your family. The day of the week. The month. Pick something I would say.”

“Nothing.” He replied, not even willing to try after his earlier failed attempts. His heart squeezing in his chest as the reality of it all dawned on him. The reality of being alone. Without a past or a future. Without family or friends.

Without an identity.

His stomach threatened to turn inside out as panic grabbed him firmly by the throat and squeezed. His breath suddenly seemingly unable to carry oxygen. His words, when he managed to push them out, tumbling over each other.

“I know nothing. I don’t, I don’t know nothing. I…”

“Otabek!” She interrupted in a stern voice, breaking his stammering. Forcing him to meet her gaze as she detached his white knuckled grip from the sheets, holding them tight between her cold hands. “Slow down. Breathe. In…Out... You’re about to start hyperventilating. You need to snap out of it.”

But he already had. One word enough to slice through the chaos in his mind. A lifebuoy in open sea.

_Otabek._

His name was Otabek.

\--

She had left him alone after that. Pressing him to heart to rest and not overexert himself. Which was easier said than done. His mind too fast for him to fully comprehend. His heart after the panic had taken a hold of it not able to slow down for days.

Days that seemed endless as they progressed. His world reduced to his little white room with its white walls and little en suite bathroom. Without anything to denote the passing time or distract him from him mentally trying to force the memories out of his non cooperative brain. No television, no books, not even a piece of paper on which to score the days. The only thing to tell time was truly passing the daily routine installed for him.

Waking, breakfast, waiting, lunch, more waiting, chat with the nurse while eating some fruit, waiting, dinner and sleep. Repeating itself over and over again until it too became a blur.

Never seeing anyone but the woman with the auburn hair and hazel eyes. The same perfect toothpaste advert smile with perfect teeth greeting him day after day. The first thing he saw in the morning and one of the last thing he saw before he fell asleep. Flitting in and out of his room on set times every day. The only thing proving that he wasn’t the only human on the planet. The only thing that kept him somewhat sane. Their conversations, though superficial, a welcome break from the twists and turns of his mind.

They would talk about his progress, physically as well as mentally. Except it seemed that the latter was more important than the former. With her cheering every little bit of progress he made. Names of family, friends, a snippet of a childhood memory. It didn’t matter what it was. She treated it as a victory.

At first he supposed it was part of her job, that it was normal for her to be so excited. But the more she did it the more off putting it became. The odd eagerness in her tone still too intense to make him feel anything but on guard. It was as if she was willing a specific memory to rise into his brain. Silently encouraging him to look for it, to find it. Something that went beyond what her mention of his name had triggered.

Otabek did not know what to do with it. A strange paradox arising in his mind. Her creepy eagerness made him want to stay far away from whatever it was she had on her mind. Yet on the other hand his curiosity was sparked. For what could he possibly remember that could justify such an intense reaction? He shouldn’t want to know, but against his better judgement he realized he wanted to.

Which was easier said than done. His mind uncooperative with him since the moment he had opened his eyes and having shown no indication it wanted to start at that moment. Besides where was he supposed to begin?

He had no clue. Staring at the ceiling for hours after she left. Repeating as many of his new found memories as he could as he waited for something to happen. Listening to the sound of rain tapping against the window. Hoping that something would just slide into place. Yet also knowing full well that it wasn’t going to be that easy. That his plan was almost adorably naïve. Yet also knowing that there were only so many things for him to try.

So he laid there. Day after a day, recalling memory after memory. Until another week had come and gone, leaving behind only a few small memories and taking his will to go on with it. The only positive that night the rain having cleared for the first time in days, allowing for a beautiful view of the starry sky. Giving him something for to stare at as he once again laid wide awake. His skin illuminated by the soft full moon glow, a hooting owl outside keeping him company.

Leaving him feeling calm and surprisingly… safe for the first time since forever. Something about the night allowing him to relax his muscles and close his eyes ready to fall asleep.

The moment he did his mind filling with flashes of memories. Little confusing snippets of events that had his eyes mist with tears before he could stop them.

_A pale hand entwined with his._

_Wood smoke slowly drifting into the air._

_The sensation of someone’s skin against his cheek. A steady heartbeat in his ears and under his palm._

_Green blue eyes holding his gaze as he sat underneath the stars, snuggled close to the mystery person’s body. Sharing one very stretched out sweatshirt for warmth._

_Soft, warm, lips meeting his own until he ran out of air. Leaving him dizzy and happy .The memories fading as he and the man tumbled to the ground._

Who?

But his mind had stopped cooperating. Leaving the name on the tip of his tongue. Close yet impossible to voice. Hidden by the frustrating haze just out of reach no matter what he tried. Teasing him in his waking and dreams never failing to leave him in tears when he opened his eyes even when he couldn’t quite remember them.

Until a few days later, as he woke from another night of fitful sleep, he heard himself answer his own question. His cheeks wet with tears. His fingers trembling as he brought them to his face in a vain attempt to stifle his sobs.

“Yuri.”

His beloved Yura.

How could he have forgotten?

\--

The return of Yuri’s name to his mind had a lot of memories rushing back in. Filling in blanks he hadn’t even realized he had. Big things, like eating cake together on their birthdays, or their first night spend together in his apartment. But also small things. Things such as a favourite food he suddenly craved or a piece of music he had once worked on. Adding on to what he already knew until finally he felt like he could confidently say that he had an, mostly, complete picture. Repeating it to himself when he was sure the nurse wasn’t in hearing range.

_His name was Otabek Altin. 27 years old. Born in Almaty Kazakhstan, but moved to the US when he was 19. He had a mother and a father still living in Kazakhstan. A group of great friends. His passion, and job, was music, the other thing he really liked working out. Running, dancing, skating among a lot of other sports. He had ran a marathon, regularly hiked three times a week. And on one of those hikes, when he was 22, he had found the love of his life. Yuri Plisetsky._

They had met in the strangest pure chance encounter he could remember happening in his life. Running into him on a foggy morning in May as he was out for a run in the woods near his hometown. The man’s blonde hair hidden underneath a raggedy hoody, dirt smudges on his pale cheeks, and blue-green eyes weary when their gazes had met. Like a cat checking out something it wasn’t sure of, always ready to bolt.

But like a cat he had warmed to him with patience and time. Running into him suspiciously often since that day until the man slowly but surely snuck a way into Otabek’s life, home and heart without any plans of ever leaving or fear of being kicked out.

 _So where was he now?_ Otabek wondered with a heart clenched in sorrow and fear. _Why wasn’t he by his side as he had been ever since they had met?_

Had they been separated when whatever had happened that had send him into hospital? Was he… dead?

He shook his head, trying to shake away the cold he suddenly felt. Before once again trying to penetrate his mind for answers. But where it had returned the distant past to him quite willingly in the days before, the recent stayed frustratingly out of reach. Apparently too slippery for it to grab a hold on.

Which left only one thing to do.

Ask.

Except that that in itself was going to be a problem. For he had tried to do it before. Days prior, when his first memories had returned to him. Trying to be calm about it but feeling anxious only to be tapped on his nose like a child by his nurse. An enigmatic smile playing with her lips as she told him that there “Was a time and place for everything.” But “that that time was not now, it will only upset you and affect your progress negatively. Let’s just leave sleeping dogs rest, at least until you feel a bit more stable.”

Otabek hadn’t asked again. Assuming that eventually it would all come back, or if not that she would give him an answer without prompting. Patience was a virtue after all.

Only it had never come up again in the two weeks after. Not once. Leaving him fed up and frustrated. Done with struggling while someone looked down on him doing it instead of reaching out a hand.

So when the nurse came in that afternoon, sitting down in her usual spot to absentmindedly peel an orange for him, he was ready.

Unfortunately so seemed she. Every question he raised parried with an answer in such a perfect rhythm it felt as if pre-recorded. Every response given without a pause to think or even look up from her hands.

As if she didn’t need to. As if she had expected it all weeks in advance and had rehearsed her answer every evening before bed since before he had come out of his coma. Her face lacking any kind of emotion as she spoke. The conversation as it progressed nothing but surreal.

“Where are we?”

“A private facility deep in the woods of the United States.”

“Why can’t I go outside?”

“There are bears and wolves in the woods.”

“Where is my family?”

“They cannot leave Kazakhstan due to border control issues.”

“Why are you the only person I ever see? Where are the doctors?”

To this she actually laughed, loudly, her eyes wrinkling in the corners and hazel eyes sparkling with glee. Shattering the strange atmosphere as she for the first time since the conversation had started broke character. Proving him that she hadn’t been replaced by a robot or voice recorder overnight. 

“I’m the only person you’ll need from now on, Otabek.” She told him when she was done laughing. The tone of her voice having him take a mental step back. All red flags raised and alarms blaring in the back of his head. His own and the ones from the something giving him guidance before. Her words tipping him over from slightly creeped out into terrified.

“How…” he asked as calm as he could, fighting against the terror in his body and the lump of panic in his throat. “Did I get injured?”

She paused. A hesitation so short Otabek would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her every move. Catching the glint of annoyance flashing in her eye for a split second, before disappearing just as fast as it had appeared. Leaving her as carefully composed as she had been all day when she looked up at him. Once again the robot he had believed her of being. Only adding to the discomfort her words installed in him.

“A crash, Otabek.” She said holding his gaze, as if daring him to disagree, the familiar kind smile close to a smirk. “A very unfortunate accident as you rode your motorcycle down the highway.”

Which could have easily been true, it wasn’t that odd of a possibility. Except he didn’t believe it for a second and neither did the something in the back of his mind. The thing screaming “LIES” on top of its lungs as he studied her face. Tipping a story he was already suspicious of over the edge of plausibility. Her odd behaviour making him swallow his last question and push Yuri’s name back where he had hidden it. Where it was safe, where she couldn’t take it from him. Forcing the corners of his mouth to push up into a smile instead. Mumbling a “thank you” as he accepted the orange wedge offered to him.

Their usual routine picked back up not much later. The conversation steering back to the calm waters of weather and his progress after his nurse had looked at him for more questions. There weren’t any. Or more, he realized he wouldn’t be getting any more or better answers so he didn’t see the point asking them. Leaving him to simply nod, allowing for the equilibrium to be restored and life to return to normal.

Except it hadn’t.

Things had changed. The calm complacency he had felt at his situation before, never settling back in quite the same way as it once had. For the better perhaps. As it should have been perhaps. Leaving him restless and unruly, questioning everything his nurse had said and done. Allowing him to see everything in a new light.

Like how she had dealt with the scars that crossed his body from neck to hip. Mentioning them in passing the first time she had washed him. Pressing him to heart to keep his eyes of them. “Because they were still tender”, “because they were traumatising and could bring back memories he wasn’t ready for”.

_Or memories that made no sense with her story._

Because he had looked at them. Days after her first mentioning them, when he was desperate to find Yuri’s name. His hand trembling as it slid over his skin and up, his heart pounding as he found four thin and long gashes starting at his shoulder tracing them all the way to his hip.

They hadn’t made sense to him then, nor had they sparked any sort of memory. Lacking too much information to make any kind of sense of them. Leaving him a bit disappointed as he retreated.

But that had changed. He knew more. Knew what supposedly had caused them.

And didn’t believe it for a second.

Of course he knew very little of car crash injuries in general let alone his own. But he, and the something in the back of his mind, were adamant that something was off. There were just too many scars, too evenly placed while at the same time being too irregular. He just couldn’t think of any car or motorcycle part making such a pattern.

No, they seemed almost claw like, as if he had been grabbed by a bear … _or a wolf_.

For a few days he let that notion be. Playing along with the charades as if convinced she was right, that he believed her. Luring into a false sense of security as she had always done to him before mentioning them again. Drawing her attention to them the next time she bathed him. Closely watching her reaction when he asked her opinion on what car part would cause such a thing.

It caught her visibly of guard, her body freezing mid movement, the soapy washcloth stilling on his leg. Her unbreakable smile faltering and jaw clenched tight as she furiously looked for an answer that would lure him away. Her composure snapping back into place when she found one. Her face once again that of the happy nurse, even though she couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice.

“Who could possibly say?” she said as if dealing with an annoying fly, the smile poorly hiding the cold in her eyes and the tension still in her jaw. “I wasn’t there. Nor do it think that it is that important. Why seek something that will upset you? Now don’t ask any more questions, be good and let me wash you.”

He was. The perfect patient. Staring at the ceiling and clenching his teeth while she rubbed his skin with so much vigour that it felt like she wanted to rub it off.

His rebellion came after. When she had left him alone again in the maddening silence. His hand slipping once again under his shirt and up to his chest. Tracing a body he recognized less and less every day. The muscle mass he remembered painstakingly building and had been so proud off, slowly having whittled away as time progressed. Leaving behind something he felt disconnected from. Something that wasn’t him, nor would it feel like him again for probably ages.

_If it ever would._

Otabek shook away those grim thoughts. He didn’t want to think about that, and at that moment it wasn’t important either. The scars were. Ever thick and unyielding as he traced them with his fingertips, making him unconsciously flinch even though they were nothing to fear.

A wolf.

Why had his mind mentioned a wolf? And more importantly, why did that feel so _right_ even though it would explain nothing?

A wolf attack was perhaps more rare and a bit more bizarre than a car crash but surely not more traumatizing. Nor more unimaginable considering he loved to hike. Therefore his nurse would have no reason not to have just told him if that was true.

So why? Why did his mind insist on something to do with a wolf?

It made no sense. No matter the angle he tried to use or how much he tried to rationalise he couldn’t figure it out. A piece of the puzzle that would made it all come together apparently still missing when night fell once again. His room quiet except for the soft hooting from his owl friend outside the window as the day came to a close and he got ready to leave it behind.

Only the day didn’t seem done with him yet. His vision filling with red the moment he fell asleep. His mind releasing a memory that hit him with the intensity of a freight truck to the face.

_Blood._

_So much blood._

The scent of it filling his nostrils with iron, mixing with the sour stale urine already there. His every nerve ending screaming as if on fire. Flames radiating out from his chest to cover his entire body from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. Tearing a scream out of him as his shirt slowly drenched with warm and sticky blood. 

Only for it all to disappear again the moment he opened his eyes. His skin drenched in sweat. His heart pounding behind his ribs and his stomach threatening to turn inside out. The entirety of his body trembling as he tried to shake the images out of his mind.

Except they had made their home there. Following him gladly into the light of the day. Flashes of them reappearing every time he blinked or closed his eyes. Until he wanted to do nothing more than stare into the sterile and harsh ceiling lights just to have a breather. Only to find he was fighting for a lost cause. The memories patient. Waiting for the moment he couldn’t keep them off anymore.

Which happened sooner than he had wanted to. His body and mind exhausted from fighting, pushing him once again into oblivion where the screams and blood were ready to greet him.

Yuri’s screams. Shouting his name in anger and despair as he struggled against the faceless people holding him back. His loves hands…. Claws… covered in blood as they reached for where Otabek laid bleeding out. His name on Yuri’s lips more animalistic snarl than human sound as he shouted it once again. Slashing out behind him as more people grabbed him wherever they could. Yanking back his arms and ripping the shirt he was wearing.

All of it seemed more like a movie than reality to Otabek. The sounds starting to distort as his hearing started to fail and his sight started to blur. His body in dream suddenly feeling heavy and unyielding. Making it impossible to move towards his boyfriend, to help him as he so desperately wanted to. Instead, all he could do was watch. Watch as Yuri went under as even more people piled on top of him, pinning him down as he raged and snarled. Watch as others walked towards his own body. Lifting him of the ground and onto a hard surface. Talking to him in a language he should’ve understand but didn’t. The last thing he saw before his vision finally faded to black his boyfriends piercing yellow eyes, holding his gaze with so much intensity it felt like a promise.

He woke with a start, his shirt and hair once again plastered to his body by sweat. His heart going a hundred miles an hour in his chest as his mind tried to process what it had just seen. What it all meant.

Yellow eyes. Claws.

It made no sense to him. It shouldn’t be possible.

Could it be possible?

 _Yes,_ the something in the back of his mind insisted, _it could_. Offering him more memories as it did.

Less bloody memories. More mundane memories. Of Yuri looking at him with uncertainty in eyes gone yellow after he had lost his temper and snarled. Shoulders hunched and bottom lip caught between fangs. Of rushed hands lifting up his shirt after an accidental close call of a stray claw, to be followed by a relieved sigh when the skin underneath was fine. Of his boyfriend’s body melting into him as Otabek massaged his tense neck, offering him a distraction from the beast pushing too hard.

_The beast._

That was what Yuri had called it.

 _That_ was what they had taken Yuri for. It had to be.

_Oh god._

He hid his face in his hands. Palms pressed against his closed eyelids and he took deep breaths through his nose. Hoping it would somehow rearrange everything he just saw in a different order. One less bizarre that would feel just as right. But everything stayed stuck in the same sequence of events the only thing his brain offered him a faint headache and a sudden sense of anxiety as everything closed in on him. The lies, the isolation, the constant rollercoaster of emotion, the memories. Finally pushing him past what he could take. Transforming the peaceful white room for the first time in the prison it actually was.

A box he would never escape from. A box he would die in.

_Run. Get the fuck out._

His heart was going a million miles an hour at that point, panic a lump in his throat as he tried to push himself up. His elbows quivering as he put weight on them, his body lifting an inch of the matrass. Only to find that he couldn’t. His arms going out from underneath him and slamming him back, leaving him gasping for air. A slap in his face that made him realize how weak his body truly was.

_How bad the place had let it become._

A dead weight even after at least a month of recovering. While there was absolutely no reason for it to be like that. As his legs, as far as he could tell, were perfectly fine, and his chest looked long healed. Meaning that there was nothing he could see or imagine to justify keeping him at a complete bedrest. To not do, let alone _mention,_ any form of rehabilitation or physiotherapy.

Except of course for the most obvious one.

That it was entirely by design. Like the isolation. Like the broken television. Like the medication that seemed to keep the faint haze in his mind.

Keeping him completely at their mercy and control.

_Fuck._

The realisation pushed him to try again. And again. And again. His arms collapsing at every attempt. Until his back was damp with perspiration and his body very close to the edge of the bed.

“Otabek!”

He looked up in a reflex. Never having heard his nurse’s voice that panicked before. Her eyes wide in alarm when their gazes met. But he didn’t care. Not about her. Not about whatever words she was shouting at him.

All he wanted was to get his legs over the edge of the bed and leave. To get away from that cursed place that would not do him any good. To find Yuri wherever he was and never let go of him again.

The rational part of him knowing all too well that if his arms couldn’t hold his weight, his legs definitely couldn’t. Yet his mind too chaotic to make it click.

In the end it didn’t matter. He didn’t get that far. The nurse’s hands pushing him back and down with an ease that made him feel even more powerless and enraged. Her nails digging in his skin through the thin fabric of his pyjamas as she tried to keep his struggling under control.

“Otabek stop!” she yelled in another attempt to calm him down. Her voice a whip this time, drawing his gaze up to hers even as he continued to fight her hold. “What has gotten into you? Calm down!”

Never had he felt a bigger urge to spit in someone’s face then at that moment. The miasma of anger, confusion and frustration too strong for him to think straight. But something held him back. The anger turning him cold instead of white hot. The only thing he spat at her the question that had occupied his mind for days. The words when they passed his lips more growl than anything else. His eyes daring her to tell him a lie.

“Where. Is. Yuri?”

He wished the words back into his mouth the moment he had set them loose. Regret coming instantly on their heels. For her demeanour changed immediately. A quiet falling over her. The panic in her eyes replaced by a dangerous gleam that turned his body limp in her grasp. A small scared rabbit in the talons of a hawk. Pinned down with one hand as she dug out the restraints from under the matrass with the other.

He didn’t even struggle as she put them on. One look enough to have made an end to all resistance leaving behind only the desire to curl up in a ball and scream. Scream until he couldn’t hear the constant noise anymore. Scream until his lungs burned and his vision spotted with black. Scream until everything was over and he was all alone again.

But the noise stayed trapped in his throat. Kept there by the nurse hoovering over him like a ghost, grinning like a cat that had finally gotten the cream. Her eyes alight with glee. Her cheeks dimpled in a way that made her resemble a possessed child and sent a shiver down his spine. His mind flooding with all sorts of irrational fears, from murder and assault to experimentation, as she stood bend over him.

Only for his nurse to walk away as soon as she had him secured. Back to the doorway she had come from retrieving from the floor something she had dropped in her haste to get to him. A pear. Its skin as she put it down on the chair visibly bruised to a pulp.

It was left abandoned. His nurse taking a seat on the bed instead, the matrass dipped to the side where her bodyweight compressed it as she sat there. Watching him, studying him. Slowly tracing a line down his cheek with her index finger. The scraping of her fingernail on his skin making him feel sick.

“So you do remember.” She said calmer than the rest of her body language made him believe. The glee still very prominent in her eyes. “I had hoped you would. Expected even. Luckily you are smart enough. It would have been much easier if only I had been able to nudge you in the right direction, but no. ‘Let him find out himself.’ They said. ‘Perhaps he won’t remember at all and he can go back to his normal life.’” She snorted, shaking her head as if in disbelief. “Fools. As if you weren’t shushing him when he realized what he had done to you and begged you for forgiveness. Or screamed his name as he was dragged away from you. Oh well, it all turned out in the end I suppose.”

Another shake of her head as she turned her back on him. Pulling open a drawer beside his bed he had never seen opened before. Taking from it a syringe and vial of liquid.

“I don’t understand.” He croaked, his heart once more in his throat, his mouth dryer than a desert. 

The matrass dipped again as she shifted her weight towards him. Her body half bend over his. Her hand back on his face. This time wiping some tousled locks of hair from his eyes in a gesture so alike what his mother would have done that it left him disturbed. Tears misting his eyes and bile clawing its way up his throat as his mind flooded him with memories of places and times he would’ve rather been. Making it impossible to focus.

“There is nothing for you to understand, Otabek.” She told him, drawing his attention back. Her hand gone again. Her eyes on the syringe she was filling. “You’re nothing more than a pawn now. Just a piece to move and eventually discard. As long as you are good, and useful in keeping your boyfriend under control, you will live a long time. If not. Who knows? That’s not something I decide.”

_Boyfriend under control?_

His heart skipped, his eyes widening in disbelief, but she didn’t see him. Her back turned to him as she rummaged around in another drawer to take out a tourniquet. Pulling it uncomfortably tight around his upper arm and wasting little time to dig the needle in. The stab of pain sharp enough to make him flinch even in his shock.

“Just a little sedative.” She murmured as she pushed the plunger down, the clear liquid slowly sinking down the glass and into his body. “Or little… I think we have passed lying and hiding haven’t we Otabek? It is a bit stronger than the pills we, _I,_ already gave you. We just cannot have you try and run away, or, even worse hurt yourself, now can we?”

The smile on her face dared him to say something. Her head tilted to one side as she waited for him to show some more of the fire he had shown before. Except he was too distracted to take the bait. His face still blank but his mind racing with the little titbit of information he had been thrown. 

_Yuri was alive._

_He was fighting them. Enough that they needed something to keep him under control._

Otabek wanted to laugh, cry and scream all at once. The relief washing over bizarre considering the situation he found himself in. Adding another twist to an hour already filled with so many of them that he didn’t even know how to start processing them. Exhaustion looming underneath the thin layer of adrenaline keeping him together.

It wasn’t until he tried to lift his hand to his face a second later that reality kicked in again. His hands clenching underneath the restraints. His gaze returning to his nurse, waiting for her next move. Hoping that the cat was done playing for the night now that she had him drugged and tied up. Allowing him an opportunity to make some sense of it all.

But even that proved too much to ask. Her hand cupping his jaw in an almost shockingly tender grasp instead. Her eyes once again holding the calm and gentle gaze he knew from her. Her voice when she spoke reduced to a whisper.

“I know it will be hard but please try and be good, Otabek.” She crooned, stroking his hair as she did so. “It’s all for the best. You cannot leave and I cannot let you die, so we will have to deal with each other one way or another. If you allow me to keep you alive, I will promise to stay away from you as much as possible. No pain, no torture. A fair compromise don’t you agree?”

She kept smiling at him. Holding up the façade as well as she could, but they both knew it were lies she spun for him. A weak attempt to lure him back in the comfortable fairy tale she had created for them both. Except there wasn’t really a choice. Every promise of hers thin, treacherous and worth nothing. Everything he would agree with more beneficial to her or subject to change whenever she felt like it with nothing he could do about it.

So he held his tongue, looking her in the eye with a gaze he hoped betrayed nothing of what was going on in his mind. Of the fire she had so thoroughly extinguished before having been rekindled with just one slip of her tongue, if it had been a slip at all.

“I see, that’s how it is huh Otabek? “ The woman said when he kept his silence for longer than she seemed to expect. “Well, at least think about it will you? I will leave you alone now. You’ve had quite the afternoon, I am sure you would like to _relax_. See you at dinner Otabek.”

With that she got up and left, unceremoniously dumping the syringe into a trashcan as she went. Leaving him behind in his room of endless white, his mind spinning from the revelations and hazing from the drugs. All he could do letting it all come over him as he was once again cast adrift. His thoughts unravelling again no matter how tightly he tried to clutch them.

The only difference being that for the first time in all those days he had hope.

Yuri was out there somewhere. Fighting for his own freedom. Perhaps even looking for him.

It was the thing that kept him calm. An anchor in the storm his mind slowly but surely became. His name becoming a mantra or prayer he kept repeating it over and over again in his head. The tears once again streaming down his face.

Yura.

Please, find me Yura.

Please, get me out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people! 
> 
> I am so sorry for taking so long to post this. This thing was supposed to be 1000 words max but it became almost 8 times as long as I worked on it. Considering I can edit about 1000 words a day if I have a good day and push myself well... It took me a while. It didn't help that I started to get attached to this story and my perfectionism kicked in. Oh well it is done. Day 6 will hopefully be up at the end of the week. Thank you for your patience and hope you enjoyed!


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